It's the fall
by piratesmiley
Summary: that kills you. Olivia Dunham just tripped into something huge. P/O.


A/N: I finished this several days ago, and I probably should have posted before last nights eppy. Sorry, guys. So...it's based on spoilers from last night's ep, only now this story is only barely semi-plausible. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe.

* * *

Olivia Dunham just tripped into something huge. Moreover, she tripped on the elephant in the room, a bright pink oaf with no apologies, taking the temporary form of a stray cord running through the lab going toward who-knows-what, just to launch her into Peter's arms. She accidentally jostles him into realizing that they need to leave now. More accurately, he _needs_ to leave _now_, before he loses his shit and Olivia realizes something is wrong.

Somehow the astutely clever and all-observing agent doesn't notice Walter Bishop's quivering lip and guilty, sorrowed look. She doesn't notice Peter's stiff shock or barely-bridled anger. But somehow her subconscious, guided by the Fates themselves, made sure she stumbled into him sideways just long enough for him to compose himself.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Peter's never been more ready to leave this place in his whole life. All of his threats from the beginning seem like jokes compared to the biting urge to get away now.

"Just a minute."

She nods, still slightly flushed from knocking into him, and heads for the car.

They are heading off to Iraq, the origin of the moment where they stopped being two people and started being allies. It's case-related, not recreational—of course not. But the furtive glances shared between the two single, attractive, thirty-something's at the very mention of their other-side-of-the-world destination is enough to make this a significant trip.

_What happens in Iraq stays in Iraq?_

Not in terms of war, obviously. But this is a whole different kind of fight. But while Peter is excitedby the opportunity to tease her brain into spitting out some new secret, Walter's dropped bomb is taking precedence.

Frankly, Peter doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what possessed his non-father to do something like this, let alone _tell_ him at this moment, when he's already half-gone, instead of years ago like he should have. He doesn't understand how Walter could have done this to him. A truly selfish act isn't easily justified, Peter has decided.

He watches the old man struggle for words.

"Goodbye," Peter chokes stiffly. He intentionally doesn't tell him when—if he's coming home. Let the man live in fear; for the boy he stole knows the truth about himself and harnesses rage enough to wipe whole nations out.

-

Stony silence gives more away than he realizes. Olivia is only guessing, but she's pretty sure that he wasn't angry at her, but at his father for some inexplicable reason. It's like they've regressed into the early days again.

Not that it's her business, because it isn't. She knows that. But curiosity hasn't killed this cat yet, nor has this world killed her curiosity.

DHS has hooked them up with a private jet, and Olivia is grateful. Peter's expression would probably frighten any children on a commercial flight. Plus, she surmises it's a lot easier to brood when there aren't very many people around.

Apparently, it also helps to sulk while no one is staring at you, because Peter looks up at her for the first time since take-off and snarls, "What?"

"What the hell is your problem?" She is shocked. "You've been…surly all day."

"Surly? _Really_?"

He's trying to distract her from his mood, but it's not working. She doesn't give a shit about word choice, and it was a lame attempt anyway, he'll admit.

"Peter." With two syllables she admonishes him for keeping something from her. Like it's her right to know, now that he snapped at her. _Shit_.

"It's not a big deal."

_Lie._

"I don't believe you."

_Of course not._

Just like the two of them: they are a pair entitled "Of Course Not;" a work of art as a symbol of all who keep their distance for fear of close contact. But that's beside the point at this moment.

All Peter can do is sigh. He's having difficulty looking at her, but she needs to know one way or another. He might as well be the one to tell her.

He closes his eyes and takes the plunge.

-

Three hours have passed from that moment. Two pairs of eyes are red-rimmed, all embarrassed. They are sitting on the floor of the plane, because there wasn't a convenient way for her to hold his hand while sitting across from each other in semi-stiff airplane seats.

Olivia has realized that she isn't very good at comforting, but the fact that they were on a plane, that there finally was something that could contain the two of them in such a small space with absolutely no safe hope of escaping made it easier for Peter to choose who to confide in.

And he seems to appreciate her sad efforts, which is enough for her to keep trying.

So. He isn't from here. He doesn't belong here, if she wants to get technical. He, among a few choice others, are most likely the ones causing these paranormal happenings upon the universe. Literally, he is the one turning her world upside down.

She thinks maybe Peter expected her to be angry with him, but she doesn't really think that was possible. It is most certainly Walter's fault; he took this to an entirely more personal level between Olivia's involvement with Cortexiphan and Peter's trans-dimensional travels.

Not that she can safely blame Walter, either. Greif makes people do insane things.

Like, for example, what she's thinking right now: maybe three hours isn't enough time to fall in love, but right now Olivia's willing to swear by it.

See it from her perspective: she learns of his true origins just as he's beginning to lose his mind over them. Suddenly, they have no secrets. It's like an inhibition dropped because they were two different species. She falls in love maybe with his reaction to Walter's betrayal, or to hopelessness giving out to a flood of secrets—she is the lone soul in the universe, either one, that knows these things about him. If that's not intimate, then the concept doesn't even exist—a fallacy for wishers and dreamers.

But okay, maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was just fear of absence. There was, however, such a strong part of her willing to do all necessary to keep him there. And yes, there were a million reasons in either direction but she only needed one—one very specific consequence of reality—to make her fight for him.

There it pops up again: the concept of reality, and her possible manipulation through perception. She wondered idly if she could manipulate his reality. Maybe she could make him fall in love, make him do whatever she pleased.

She flushed bright red.

But back to her golden motivation—she had already lost once before; and she was sick of being confused, appalled, and one step behind everyone else in this universe and the other. Didn't Peter say that they needed to stop reacting? Well, she was officially done. She was going to actively look for answers. She was going to actively look for happiness.

-

If Peter's mind was the DMV, Shock had just registered for driver's ed a few hours ago and is now becoming comfortable behind the wheel. Soon enough, Shock will take the crappiest of all crappy photos and sit in line like the rest of Peter's world-weary emotions, but for now this particular one held on with greedy fingers the great expanse of open road that its host provided.

Bewildered, Hurt, and Confused are all passengers. Peter suspects that maybe he's been put on autopilot while the boys upstairs talk this one out.

Out of nowhere, Olivia grabs his face and kisses him on the cheek. Bewildered grabs hold of the steering wheel to avoid an oncoming steamroller, and screeches the vehicle to a stop.

He looks at her. "What…?" is all he can choke out.

She shrugs. "I don't know," as if she can't be held responsible for her actions, for what her body does on its own.

He squeezes her hand in acceptance. "Okay." He scrambles up to his feet and pulls her to standing as well. Barely an inch apart, they both smile, let go, and return to their seats as if nothing has happened.


End file.
